Chapter One
“What do you mean I’m too late?” I gasped, out of breath from hurrying. “This can’t happen. I need to get to Paris tonight.” I’d saved for a year for this trip and so looked forward to it. I clutched the counter, facing the neatly dressed Tenerife Airport clerk.
She shoved back a lock of blond hair and adjusted her glasses. “My apologies, señorita. The gate is closed, and the plane is taxiing to the runway.”
The waiter at the Tenerife Airport restaurant had delayed bringing my friend, Stephanie and me the Layered Turtle Cheesecake, so rich and delicious I could still taste it. Now we’d missed the plane.
“Perhaps I can arrange another flight for you,” the clerk suggested.
“Is there another flight out today?” I asked, swallowing my panic and trying to appear composed.
People around me chattered in different languages. A newscaster’s booming voice spoke, first in Spanish, and then in English, about a mud avalanche in Venezuela. Flashbulbs lit up an area as photographers clustered around some celebrity.
“I am sorry,” the clerk said. There are no flights until tomorrow at three o’clock.”
Stephanie, spoke on her phone and then frowned. “The desk clerk at Hotel Tenerife where we stayed last night said they’re booked up for tonight.” She smoothed back her dark hair and turned to me with a desperate look on her face. “What are we going to do now, Kelly?
I gritted my teeth. “Our Paris hotel reservation is nonrefundable, and we’re stuck in the Canary Islands until tomorrow afternoon. I hope we won’t have to drop any activities we’ve planned.”
I slumped into a nearby seat and pounded the armrest. Damn, why did everything have to go wrong at once?
Stephanie sat down beside me and patted my shoulder. “Take it easy. We’ll manage somehow. Let me see what I can find available.” She tapped on her phone.
A shadow fell over me. I looked up. A gorgeous man towered over me. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place what movie or TV show I’d seen him in.
He carried a briefcase, but his gold shirt and khaki shorts showed off a broad chest and powerful legs. “You look troubled, miss? I hate to see such a lovely lady in distress. Is there something I can help you with?” Mr. Handsome’s deep voice rolled over me like a wave crashing on the sand. Wow, he’d called me lovely, but why did he seem so concerned? He didn’t know me, and I was nobody special.
“My friend and I have reservations at a hotel in Paris, but we just missed our flight.”
“Why not take the next flight?” His deep voice was mesmerizing.
I shook my head. “That was the last flight for today.”
“Surely, you can stay another night here in Tenerife,” he said.
“We can’t. My friend Stephanie just called, and the hotel is booked up.”
Another man stood at attention behind him. Muscular looking and over six feet tall, he wore a uniform and a holstered gun. It was strange to see an armed man in an airport. He must be a bodyguard for the man beside him, who had to be rich or important or both. The bodyguard stepped between Mr. Handsome and me. His gaze looked stern. “Who are you?” the bodyguard asked, “and why are you speaking to my employer?”
“I’m Kelly Chandler. He was asking if he could help, but I doubt he can.”
Mr. Handsome motioned to his bodyguard to step back, then stood tall and imposing in front of me. A touch of some manly after shave wafted my way, and a smile lit up his face. “What a cute accent. Where are you from?”
I smiled. “Bedford, Texas.”
“I’m Mario Fiorelli, and Ernesto is my bodyguard. Let me see what I can do.” He held out his hand for me to shake. “It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Chandler.”
I enjoyed the warmth of his hand and his captivating smile. His charming voice rolled across my ears. He dropped my hand but continued to smile.
I glanced at my friend, now checking her phone. “This is my friend, Stephanie.” Unlike me with my hair in a ponytail and a slash of lipstick, her dark hair curled becomingly around her face, and her make-up was perfect.
She looked up, and her eyes opened wide. “I never expected to see you here.”
“I’m pleased to meet you again, Signorina Stephanie.”
Where had my friend gotten to know this dreamboat?
She shook his hand. “It’s nice to see you, but I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do now.”
“Please be patient. I’ll take care of this,” he said and headed to the clerk at the counter. The bodyguard followed.
“Señorita, por favor.” He rattled off something in Spanish I couldn’t follow.
The clerk shook her head, and Mr. Fiorelli spoke again. I couldn’t understand his words, but I loved hearing his deep, mellow tones. The clerk picked up her phone and spoke, also in Spanish.
Mario Fiorelli paced in front of the counter as his bodyguard stood at attention. A man with a camera approached, but the bodyguard waved him away.
Minutes later, a man in a dark suit and tie appeared and spoke with Mr. Fiorelli.
Finally, they shook hands, and the man in the dark suit spoke to the clerk. She faced Mr. Fiorelli. “It shall be as you have requested. We appreciate your most generous donation and your patronage.”
What was that all about?
Mr. Fiorelli approached and smiled. “It is all arranged. The plane will return to the gate and wait for us.”
A young man in a uniform rushed over and loaded our bags and those of Mr. Fiorelli and his bodyguard onto a cart and headed through the gate. The clerk checked our boarding passes and pointed to the gate. “You may proceed.”
My mouth dropped open. He’d done the impossible. “Thank you so much,” I said to Mr. Fiorelli. “You’re a lifesaver.”
He smiled. “Well, I need to go to Paris also, and I was glad I was able to help. If you ladies will head to the plane, Ernesto and I will follow.”
On the plane, a flight attendant showed us to our seats. He’d got us upgraded to first class. How nice. He paused in front of a row of three seats. “I always sit by the window, but if you really want that seat, I will allow you to sit there.”
“No, no, that’s fine.” I waited while he settled in the window seat, smiled, and winked.
As I stood there, stunned, Stephanie pushed past me, slid into the seat beside him and asked,” So what have you been doing since I saw you last?”
Drat. I wanted to sit next to him, but here she was, making like they were old friends. I shouldn’t be mad at her, but something inside me twisted. I watched the bodyguard load our baggage into the overhead compartments while his employer sat, gazing out the window.
“Why haven’t you told me about meeting such a gorgeous guy?” I whispered to Stephanie.
“I met him at the American embassy in Spain while I was interning there. His country doesn’t have an embassy in Spain, and he’d lost his passport.”
“So, you know who he is?”
“Oh yes.”
Mario Fiorelli laughed. “She made me relate practically all my life history and checked me out on the Internet before she agreed to provide the documents I needed.”
Stephanie nodded. “That’s right. I had to be sure he was who he said he was. He produced other ID, and everything he told me checked out on the Internet.”
“Thank you so much for getting us on the plane and even arranging for us to sit in first class,” I said. “Do you come to Tenerife often?”
“I find it a nice place to relax. I came here to hike for a few days. I was going to change my reservation so I could stay longer, but I don’t mind cutting my trip short to accommodate two lovely young ladies, even if one of you has red hair. I need to go to Paris because I’m playing in France next week.”
I twisted a lock of hair around my finger. “Wait a minute. What’s wrong with red hair?”
He frowned. “My ex-girlfriend was a bad-tempered redhead.”
“You don’t need to worry. I’m quite even tempered,” I said. Surely, I could live up to that for a short flight and hopefully more time in his company.
His phone rang. “Please excuse me. I need to take this call.” He rose, brushed past us, and walked up the aisle.
“Stephanie,” I said. “Who is he and where is he going to play in Paris?”
“Didn’t you recognize him? He’s the star of Monterra’s soccer team. We saw him being interviewed last night, but more than that, he’s the nephew of the king of Monterra.”
“You mean he’s a prince?”
“He sure is.”
I was glad he’d made it possible for us to fly to Paris, but as a prince he was definitely out of my league. How on earth could I carry on a conversation with such a celebrity?